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December 2001 In
April of 1972, Larry and I were interested in the Salt Creek area that
connected from the East side of the Salton Sea, via� service roads along
the Coachella Canal. Our route would then follow up Salt Creek, using
the Bradshaw Trail, along which the mining railroad from the Kaiser
Eagle Mountain iron ore mines North of I-10, made 52 mile daily trips
of 100-car ore trains to meet the main line of� the Southern Pacific
railroad, along the East side of the Salton Sea.� They hauled the open
ore cars up past Indio, through San Gorgonio Pass and dropped off the
train cars at the Kaiser Steel Plant at Fontana, California. (West of
San Bernardino).�
Our
adventure started for me at 2:00 A.M. at my house in Whittier, where
I had earlier loaded
my Honda SL125 dual-purpose motorcycle into the camper and� loaded my
gear for the trip to Salt Creek. Finally, I was ready and headed my
truck to San Diego, to pick up Larry at his house and� put his dune
buggy� and trailer onto my dock-bumper hitch he had made. When I arrived
in San Diego, I� refilled my gas tanks, and drove to his house. Final
loading of his gear did not take long, and we drove to a nearby all
night restaurant for breakfast.� That finished, we were under way out
of San Diego via State hiway 67 through Ramona, and switching over to
State hiway 78 East and around the South end of the Salton Sea to it�s
East side up State hiway 111. We
wanted to get over to the Coachella Canal and it�s service road. We
left hiway 111 at Bombay Beach, going East over the paved road past
the Imperial hot mineral spa, thence onto the dirt service road that
ran along the Coachella Canal. A
final turn North to Siphon 24, crossed it and Larry spotted a rock road
leading up to a quarry about 400 feet above the canal road and the dirt
road into Salt Creek.� Remember, my faithful Ford truck had my motorcycle
inside the camper and was pulling Larry�s dune buggy on it�s trailer
which was a tad wider than my truck. I
went into �granny-gear� on the manual transmission, and trusted the
limited-slip differential would keep both rear wheels powering up the
fist-sized rocks making the roadbed.� There was a tricky right-angle
turn we just made as the grade� steepened� for the last 100 feet of
elevation.� 1:00 P.M. I turned onto the large flat base of the rock
quarry.� What a great camping location it was. The
view of the Coachella Valley in the distance and the winding route of
the canal was great.� I should mention that the final grade to the quarry
was sheer drops both sides of the wheel tracks. We
broke out the ice cold beer, peanuts, and tortilla chips, set up the
deluxe wood, rope, and aluminum camping chairs right at the edge of
the quarry. Temperature was 82 degrees with a pleasant breeze to add
to our relaxation. After
a couple of hours recuperating from our trip, we offloaded the dune
buggy, and my� dual-purpose motorcycle.� Consulting our topographic
maps, we did some close exploration for about two hours, then back to
the quarry camp site. Tomorrow
would be a busy day. But it was so nice out we built a small fire, moved
the
camp chairs near it, and stayed up to midnight before giving in to a
need for some sleep.� It had been a long day for me; 22 hours! Sunday.�
Got up at 6:00 A.M., and it was 72 degrees along with a warm breeze.
Breakfast was donuts and hot chocolate.� Then it was time to look over
the maps and� plan the day.� Larry checked over the dune buggy, and
I� prepared my motorcycle, topping off it�s gas and oil, and checking
the chain tension.� That was rugged country we had decided to explore
that day. We
headed down our rocky ramp from the quarry to the dirt road into Salt
Creek. The creek bed was wide enough to permit wandering back and forth
between the sides.� There were little clumps of smoke trees and tamarisk
from time to time. We also crossed under several railroad bridges before
we came to the entrance of Canyon Spring. We
turned up the Canyon Spring road and shortly arrived at the spring where
several fellow desert rats were camped with their 4-wheel drive vehicles.�
We waved and passed on up the narrowing �road� until we came to the
bloodstone diggings. No
actual mine existed. Rockhounds had opened up two vertical seams in
the rock and scraped out� the �country rock� until the stones were pried
loose.� The bloodstone was a medium green with red spots like blood
worked through it, hence the name.� We searched through the rubble for
some small pieces to take home. We
turned around and rejoined Salt Creek, heading for a prominent square
butte on our left.� Directly in front of it was a wide, very sandy,
roadbed with tire tracks leading further into a canyon. This was Red
Canyon.� Larry had it easy in the dune buggy.� I had to paddle the bike
along with my feet while trying to keep enough speed to keep me from
sinking deeper into the �road.�� Hot, sweaty work! Finally
we gave up, turned around, admired the colorful sides of the canyon,
and� pulled up under some shady tamarisk trees, in Salt Creek, to cool
off. A long drink from my canteen tasted great! After reviving for a
bit, we left the shade, and returned to the base of the square butte.
Riding about � mile further, Northeast, along Salt Creek, we came to
a sharp up-angled tire-gouged dirt road leading to the top of the mesa. Through
later explorations in 1974, we found this �jeep trail� went completely
across the mesa, North to Interstate 10.� On this trip, we rode along
the top of the hogback for about 5 miles and then turned back.� Larry
spotted a steep sloping dirt �road� that led directly down the side
of Red Canyon, to it�s bottom, and thence out to Salt Creek. Saying
he�d meet me at the square butte, I watched him creep slowly down the
one-way �road� and into Red Canyon. I fired up my motorcycle and continued
across the hogbacked mesa top and back down the way we came up.� I rode
over to the sandy entrance to Red Canyon at the base of the square butte.�
It was to be some two hours before I would see Larry again. I
loitered around the� sandy entrance. It was quite warm so I rode over
to the cluster of tamarisk trees and shut off the motorcycle.� I kept
this cycle up for an� hour, then decided something must have gone wrong.�
I looked into my bike�s gas tank, and decided I had to return to our
quarry camp site, where
I topped off the gas tank, grabbed a flashlight and a pullover, in case
it was late when he got out. I
kicked over the engine and rode down the rocky ramp and back up Salt
creek.� A speck appeared in the distance, growing larger by the moment.�
It was Larry in the dune buggy. It
turned out that he had been unable to see a mudslide between his �slide�
and the entrance to the square butte area.� He could not drive over
it, and so drove around a maze of adjacent canyons until he came to
some other campers who gave him the right directions to return to Salt
Creek. I
was greatly relieved I wouldn�t have to ride to a phone by the Salton
Sea and get a search and rescue going.� I passed him my canteen and
turned my motorcycle around following Larry back to camp. It was then
2:00 P.M.� We sat in our chairs sipping beer and discussing his adventure
until 6:00 P.M. when we put the dune buggy on it�s trailer, my bike
inside my camper, cleaned up the camp, fired up my truck, and slowly
drove down the rock ramp to the canal, and� started home. We
had a well deserved dinner that night at 9:00 P.M. at the Holly House,
by the junction of State hiway 86 and the Borrego-Salton Seaway.� I
got Larry home in San Diego by midnight. I then drove on to Whittier,
California, pulling into my driveway at 2:30 A.M. Monday morning.� And
yes, I went to work, without getting any sleep. |
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